My Fantasy in an Alley Before the Hotel

My name is Vera, and although I always had a dirty imagination, there was one night when I stopped fantasizing and actually fulfilled one of the things that turned me on the most: having my man fuck me somewhere where the risk of being discovered would have me trembling inside.

We weren’t amateurs or teenagers playing hide-and-seek. We were both adults, had been together for some time, and knew each other’s desires very well. He knew I went crazy for the mix of danger, alcohol, and orders whispered in my ear, and I knew that when his voice grew hard, it was because he was already imagining me spread open for him.

That night we left a late dinner in an area packed with bars, our bodies still warm from the wine and tension crawling beneath the table from the first course onward. For hours he had brushed his knee against mine, caressed my thigh beneath the tablecloth, and whispered such filthy things that I ended up eating with my legs pressed together.

“When we leave here, I’m going to make you walk while you’re dripping wet until you can’t take it anymore,” he told me quietly, without looking up from the menu, as if he were talking about dessert.

I got wet that instant. I held his gaze and slipped one hand beneath the table just to squeeze his bulge through his trousers. I felt him hard, hot, tense.

“You’d better follow through,” I replied, “because I’ve been thinking about your cock all night.”

He barely smiled—that smile of his that wasn’t tender but dangerous. We paid and went out into the street with the restrained urgency of people who want to get to a hotel, but are already fucking in their heads.

The night air cleared my head a little, though not enough to cool what I was carrying between my legs. We walked quickly, brushing against each other with every step. He held me by the waist and, whenever he could, squeezed my ass through my trousers as if reminding me what was waiting for me.

When we turned a corner, we saw a narrow, poorly lit passage, sheltered from the main street by a large dumpster and an old wall that left a stretch in almost complete shadow. There was no one around. Just the distant hum of an engine and the intermittent glow of a blue sign halfway down the block.

He leaned toward my ear.

“Do you want it here?”

I felt a shiver shoot straight to my pussy.

“Yes,” I told him without hesitation. “Right here. I want you to fuck me before we get to the hotel.”

Nothing more needed to be said. He took me by the wrist and led me to the back of the alley, where the darkness covered us enough to make everything more urgent. As soon as we were out of sight, he shoved me against the brick wall, cold and rough, and kissed me hungrily.

It wasn’t a sweet kiss. It was a long bite, an invasion. He opened my mouth with his tongue, held my face with one hand, and with the other caught my waist, pressing me against his body so I could feel how hard he was. I moaned against his lips when he rubbed his erection over my belly.

“That’s how I wanted you,” he murmured. “Hot, needy, and quiet.”

“I’m not promising quiet,” I replied, breathing hard. “If you touch me, I’m going to moan.”

He kissed my neck, slowly at first, and then began to bite. I felt him suck the skin beneath my jaw while his fingers undid my blouse with an eager clumsiness that turned me on more than any carefulness could have. He tugged at the fabric, pushed my bra aside, and left my breasts bare in the middle of the shadowy alley.

The contrast of the cool air on my nipples made me arch my back. He lowered his head at once. He sucked one, licked it in circles, and then caught it between his teeth. I let out a sharp moan.

“Harder,” I begged, digging my fingers into his shoulders.

He looked up, aroused by my whorish face begging for pain. Then he really bit me. Not enough to cause the kind of pain that breaks you, but the kind that ignites you. I felt the tug on my nipple, and my knees went weak.

“Fuck, you really like it,” he said, his voice cracked.

His hand dropped to my ass, slipping beneath the waistband of my trousers. He squeezed one cheek hard and then gave me a sharp slap. The sound bounced off the wall, and both things—the blow and the fear that someone might hear us—shot through me at once.

“Again,” I begged.

He slapped me again. Harder this time. The sting climbed up my back and ended between my legs, transformed into a thick wetness I could no longer hide.

He noticed when he slipped his hand around front. He undid my trousers, moved the fabric aside, and plunged his fingers inside my panties. He found my soaked pussy and gave a low, satisfied laugh, almost cruel.

“Just look at you. I haven’t even fucked you, and you’re already dripping.”

I could only pant. He moved the fabric aside and brushed my lips with two fingers before thrusting them inside me. They slipped in easily, gliding through all my wetness. I rested my head against the wall and spread my legs wider.

He moved them quickly, in and out, making a wet sound that embarrassed and aroused me at the same time. With his thumb he found my clitoris and began rubbing it while his fingers opened me from within. My body tensed at once.

“Don’t stop,” I told him, almost voiceless. “Don’t stop, please.”

“Are you going to come that quickly?”

“If you keep doing that, yes.”

He pushed his fingers deeper, curling them inside me. I had to bite my lip to keep from screaming. Every thrust of his hand dismantled me a little more. My hips began seeking him out on their own, fucking his fingers desperately, and I was already on that trembling edge of orgasm when he suddenly stopped.

I opened my eyes wide.

“Don’t be an asshole,” I protested, breathing in ragged gasps. “Don’t leave me like this.”

Instead of answering, he sucked my juices from his fingers without taking his eyes off mine. Then he opened his trousers. In the dimness, I caught sight of his cock emerging hard, heavy, tense, just as I had been imagining it all night.

“First, your mouth,” he ordered.

He grabbed me by the hair and made me lower myself. I dropped to my knees on the dirty ground without thinking twice, more aroused by his tone than bothered by the discomfort. He was right in front of my face, thick, swollen, the tip glistening. I ran my tongue along the underside, from the base to the head, and felt his thighs tense.

“That’s it,” he said, exhaling hard. “Open wide.”

I did. I put the tip in my mouth and began sucking it slowly, tasting him, wetting him further. Then I took more and more of him, swallowing as much as I could while using my hand to jerk off the rest. My tongue traced the veins, the underside, the sensitive crown of his head. He held my hair and guided me with his increasingly heavy breathing.

“You have a filthy mouth,” he murmured. “Look at you, on your knees in an alley, sucking me like a little slut.”

Those words made me moan around his cock. The vibration drew a muffled curse from him. Then he began setting the pace with his hand at the back of my head, pushing himself deeper into me. Not brutally yet, but firmly. I let him. I swallowed, relaxed my throat, and surrendered to that rhythm of entry, pressure, and withdrawal that kept filling my mouth with his taste.

A car’s headlights crossed the entrance to the alley, and the blue glow barely brushed against us. We both froze for a second. Me, with his cock in my mouth; him, one hand in my hair and the other braced against the wall. The car continued past.

As soon as the shadows returned, he slowly pulled his cock from my mouth and spat inside it.

He watched me, chewing on the expression, dominating the scene with a calmness that made me squeeze my thighs together.

“Swallow.”

I swallowed without breaking eye contact. He pulled me to my feet at once and kissed me, mixing my saliva with his. I was so hot by then that my clitoris ached from the sheer throbbing.

“Now,” he said, turning me around. “Put your hands on the wall.”

I obeyed. I pressed my palms against the brick and arched my back, offering him my ass. He pulled my trousers and panties down to mid-thigh. The cold air brushed my wet skin. I was exposed, spread open, my legs trembling in a dark alley, and it made me feel even sluttier.

I felt the tip of his cock slide along my entire slit, from bottom to top, coating itself in my wetness. He didn’t enter. He only rubbed against me slowly, teasing me. He passed it over my clitoris, and I had to close my eyes.

“Please,” I said. “Put it in already.”

He slapped me, making me gasp.

“Ask properly.”

“Fuck me,” I blurted urgently. “Put that cock inside me already. I want to feel all of it.”

He didn’t make me repeat myself. He grabbed my hip and drove into me with one thrust. He entered all the way, opening me at once, and my cry escaped before I could swallow it. I felt that delicious pain of being filled all at once, without warning, and my arms nearly buckled.

“Fuck,” he groaned behind me. “What a tight pussy.”

He stayed buried inside me for a second, breathing deeply, and then began to move. At first with long, firm thrusts, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in. Then faster. Dirtier. Harder.

Every collision shoved me against the wall. The brick scraped my hands, his fingers dug into my hips, and my body answered with moans that became increasingly difficult to contain. The wet sound of our pelvises colliding in that dark corner was obscene.

“That’s it, that’s it,” I told him. “Don’t stop. Harder.”

He obeyed eagerly. He fucked me as if he really had been holding himself back all night for this moment. His thrusts became sharp, deep, punishing. Sometimes he pulled out just enough before sinking back to the hilt; other times he made me feel his entire length slowly before driving it in hard.

I pushed my ass back to take him better. Every time he filled me, pleasure surged up through my belly like an electric shock. I slipped one hand between my legs, looking for my clitoris, but he pushed it away.

“No. You’re going to come on my cock, not your fingers.”

That sentence drove me crazy. He held one of my wrists behind my back and kept fucking me, his other hand gripping my waist. I was completely at his mercy, open, wet, obedient, and hot to the point of bursting.

“Tell me who gets you this wet,” he demanded between thrusts.

“You.”

“I can’t hear you.”

He drove into me especially deep, and I let out a moan that was almost a scream.

“You, fuck! You get me this wet!”

He laughed, aroused, and slapped me again. Then he began rubbing my clitoris with two fingers while continuing to thrust in and out of me. The combination destroyed me. His cock pounded me inside while his fingers worked me outside with cruel precision.

My breathing completely lost its rhythm. My legs were trembling. I felt the orgasm coming like a wave too large to stop. I could barely form words.

“I’m going to come,” I said. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.”

“Then come. Come like that, spread open in this alley.”

His voice pushed me over the edge. I tensed all over, clutched the wall with my hands, and my orgasm burst with such force that I went blind for an instant. I came moaning, my pussy squeezing his cock in quick, disordered, wet spasms.

He felt it and began fucking me even harder, taking advantage of the way I clenched around him. I was still trembling, unable to recover, and each new thrust prolonged the pleasure until it became almost painful.

“That’s how I like it,” he growled behind me. “Come and squeeze me like that.”

He grabbed my hair, tugged my head back slightly, and kissed my sweaty cheek as he sped up. His breathing became irregular. His hips began pounding me with that clumsy, brutal rhythm that announces the end.

“Don’t move,” he warned me.

I couldn’t have even if I wanted to. I was melted. I felt him bury himself deep, stay there, and come inside me with a deep groan that made me shudder again. His cock throbbed several times, hot, releasing without pulling out, and I felt perfectly how he filled me.

He stayed pressed against my back for a few seconds, breathing against my neck. Then he gave me one final slap, gentler, almost satisfied, and slowly pulled out. A thick string slid between my thighs, and he looked at it with an expression that made me grow wet again.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he said.

He turned me toward him. My blouse was open, my bra fallen aside, my trousers around my legs, and my face looked thoroughly fucked. He ran his thumb over my mouth and then slipped it just between my lips.

“Clean me.”

I dropped to my knees again. I took his still-wet cock, coated with my fluids and his come, and began licking it slowly from base to tip. It tasted of him, of me, of the orgasm we had just shared. I sucked it calmly, cleaning away every trace, while he stroked my hair and occasionally pushed me a little deeper.

It wasn’t as hard as before, but it was still sensitive, alive, and every lick drew little moans from him. I enjoyed feeling my body still shaken by what we had just done and continuing to tend to that cock as if the entire alley belonged to us.

When I had cleaned it, he made me stand and arranged my clothes with hands that were less violent, though still possessive. He pulled up my panties, fastened my trousers, and then put my bra back in place before buttoning my blouse haphazardly. The contrast between the brutality with which he had fucked me and the almost calm way he dressed me undid me.

“Look at me,” he said.

I did. My face must have been flushed, my lips swollen, my eyes unfocused.

“Was it worth not making it to the hotel?”

I laughed, still not completely able to catch my breath.

“We haven’t even gotten there, and I already want it again.”

He gave me a short, dirty, satisfied kiss.

“That’s what I thought.”

We left the alley with our pulses still racing, taking care not to attract too many looks. The city continued as before: cars passing, lights, people crossing streets, unaware that my legs were weak and my pussy was still full of what he had done to me back there.

We walked toward his apartment this time more slowly. I stayed close to his arm, feeling the wetness between my thighs with every step and remembering the impact of his hips against my ass, his hand in my hair, his voice ordering me to open my mouth, ask, swallow, come.

When we reached the entrance to the building, he leaned toward my ear again.

“Upstairs, I’m going to undress you slowly,” he whispered. “And then I’m going to fuck you again, but without a wall, without rushing, and without telling you to be quiet.”

I looked at him, biting my lip, still hot, still open, still wanting more.

“Then let’s go up already,” I told him, “because after what happened in that alley, I’m still your slut, and I haven’t lost the urge one bit.”